Open Wounds
by zookitty
Summary: Tag for Duels. They say your life flashes before your eyes before you die. Peter hoped it was true.
1. Chapter 1: Because of You

**Gibberings: **Hey it's your weekly heroes rant. -rolls eyes- Seriously, this show flips back ward and forward between awesome and horrible at blinding speeds! I'm not even...I can't even...I won't even let myself go into a rant seriously. I have a feeling this story says it all. So quick note, this story is depressing. Be warned. However this is NOT a oneshot. Chapter two is coming in a few days. Be strong Nathan fans...be strong. The writers just screwed him up...or he's possessed or something -twitches-

Major thanks to Stef (Greenleofiend) for Betaing

Also shout out to Stef's story Boys Don't Cry, which is referenced in this story. It's amazing, if you haven't read it...do!

**Warning:** Sensitive Material and heavy spoilers for Duels.

* * *

They say your life flashes before your eyes before you die. Peter hoped it was true. Peter flew. He flew blind. The feeling of wind brushing the tears from his eyes was no comfort. The ability to fly again was no comfort. There was no comfort for him anymore. Charles was dead, Simone was dead, Claude was gone, Caitlin was gone, Nathan…

Nathan.

The tears blurred his vision and he stopped flying. The wind roared in his ears and pelted his skin as he fell. He shut his eyes and let go.

The ground accepted him with all the pain it offered. He let it swallow him. He felt the crush of his bones, felt the blood roll down his face.

He'd died before, but that was when he had Claire's powers. He was an empty slate now, save for Nathan's power. This felt different.

"Nathan…"

_Nathan calling him every day from college to chase away is nightmares. _

_Nathan teaching him to ride a bike. He promised he would not let Peter fall, then he let go. Peter skinned both his knees, and Nathan let him have chocolate milk with dinner for a week._

_Nathan punching the person who called Peter "queer" in middle school. _

_Nathan cheering him at his graduation. _

_Nathan teasing him about being a nurse. _

_Nathan telling the world he was crazy. _

_Nathan catching him when he fell. Searching for him when he vanished. Sitting by his side when he was in a coma. Holding him when he died. Wiping away the tears when Simone died. Saving him from himself. _

_Nathan dying in his arms. _

Every good and bad thing swayed in front of his eyes as the darkness slipped in. It was nice to see Nathan one last time. He wouldn't let his mind travel further, clung to the ghosts of the past. Clung to the brother who loved him. Clung to the death that would be his escape.

"Nathan…" he choked out.

"Peter!"

It wasn't Nathan, but the voice was familiar to his hazy mind. A face swam in front of his vision. She looked concerned. He wanted to tell her she didn't need to be.

"Peter…Peter…holy—DAD!" Someone else was there then, and another. It was getting hard to focus.

"No no no no no no…Peter no!" the girl pressed her hand against his forehead. Suddenly everything was different. Everything was warm. The darkness released him and so did the bliss it offered. He felt the bones realign themselves, felt the gashes seal. Felt his mind clear.

Claire was there. Now he couldn't die. He _couldn't_ die.

"Peter! You have your power back…thank God…thank God!" Claire wrapped her arms around him. A scream ripped from his lungs as he sat up. She pulled away, eyes wide. "Peter what's wrong?" He couldn't look at her. Couldn't tell her why her hero tried to kill himself, couldn't tell her what her father was doing. Of all the things he had hoped, keeping her innocent had been near the top.

"He's in shock." It was Noah's voice this time. The rest of the conversation was lost on Peter as he fell back to the ground, curling in on himself.

_-_-_

Claire looked desperately to her father. "Shock? But he healed!" Noah crouched down beside them studying Peter carefully.

"I know, but that's what it is. Trust me, I've seen it often enough," Noah said. The young Petrelli was about as close to a friend as the company man would allow himself. Peter had helped Claire, saved her more than once, and that was enough for him. Carefully, Noah pulled the younger man up and started carrying him. Noah was not certain where to go; but he felt Claire beside him quiet with worry and Angela trailing behind, silent and unhelpful as always.

_-_-_

Noah stood in the doorway of Peter's old room, watching. Angela had taken them to the Petrelli mansion back in the city. Claire hadn't left Peter's side since they got there, but the man still had yet to wake.

"He tried to kill himself," Angela said, deadpan. Noah would have started if he wasn't so used to the Petrelli matron suddenly being there.

"Are you sure?"

She nodded. Noah turned back to the scene. Claire was hovering, her hand stroking her uncle's bangs with a maternal air. He hated to see her in so much pain.

"Do you ever wonder if it was worth it?" he asked. Angela did not seem surprised by the question, she did not look up. Just kept staring straight ahead.

"All the time."

_-_-_

Peter woke slowly but didn't stir. He let his senses come back one at a time. The sound of soft breathing, the feel of warm breath and soft hair. He lifted his head and saw Claire had fallen asleep leaning on his arm from her spot on the chair beside his bed. He brushed a stray lock away from her face. Blue eyes instantly snapped open.

"Peter," she greeted. "Are you ok?"

"I don't know," he replied honestly. Claire looked so young, so scared.

"Will you be?"

Peter laid back against the pillow, his eyes staring at the blank ceiling.

"I don't think so."


	2. Chapter 2: Never to Late

**Gibberings: **Chapter 2 is here! Fastest update EVER...at least for me haha. Thank you everyone for your amazing reviews, and thank you also for those who favorited/alerted me or this story! Last chapter will be up before Christmas so keep your eyes peeled!

Major thanks to Val for betaing! You rock chica!

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**Chapter 2: Never to Late**

_Angela watched Sylar fall to the floor, saw the hard look in Claire's eyes, and said nothing. She ignored them as they left, leaning down beside the killer's fallen form. _

_ "It's a shame. You had so much potential, Gabriel." She brushed a hand across his slicked back locks. Her fingers traced across the glass shard. She did not ignore the irony. _

_ She pulled it from his skull with a sickening wet sound. She leaned in close to his ear, breath brushing it as life returned to him "Don't say I never gave you anything." _

There had always been a connection between him and Peter. When he first realized it, it drove him insane. Being connected to such a benign person was like a spark of conscious to his darkened soul. He wanted Peter dead for that reason, more than to take his power. Then he found out they were brothers and the connection was like a blessing. It made sense. Now…

Now it is just another question.

He feels it pulling him away from the burning remains of Primatech. He follows it. His anger is simmering, suffocated by confusion. There were times when seeing how things worked did not help him.

_-_-_

Claire lays her head in her hand. Peter had drifted back into sleep a few minutes after walking up. Though her mind could not reason why, there is part of her that understood. There were times when she wanted to curl up inside herself, it only reasoned that Peter—who felt things more completely than anyone—would be able too.

She hears footsteps behind her and does not turn.

"He has a fever," she says quietly. "He's getting worse."

"What happened?"

The voice steals her breath and she turns slowly, the hair on her neck standing at full attention.

"You're dead." It fell from her lips like a whisper. Sylar does not smirk, or mock her. He barely seems aware of her. With a swipe of his hand her chair flies back into the wall so hard she sees stars. The killer walks toward Peter's limp body, staring down at him with an unreadable expression. "Stay away from him," she hisses, attempting to stand only to find his telekinesis holding her in place. "DAD!"

Sylar stoops beside her uncle, eyes fixed on the lax face.

Heavy footfalls on the steps announce Noah before he turns in the doorway, gun trained instantly on the murderer. His eyes widen, then narrow. His finger flexes on the trigger.

Then Angela is there beside him, her delicate hand on his gun stopping the shot.

"What happened to him?" As Sylar turns Claire sees a look in his eyes that was never there before. They were soft. Concerned?

"He tried to kill himself," Angela answers, blunt. Sylar's eyes travel slowly back to the young Petrelli.

"Why?"

"He wasn't strong enough," she replies.

"You don't know anything about strength. I saved his life when I thought he was my brother, he came back for me even when he wasn't convinced," Sylar says, "I was selfish, I saved him because I thought he was family. He was selfless, he saved me because I was in danger." The killer turns to Angela, dark eyes flashing. "I asked you if there was any good in this world. Now I wonder how you could be so close to that kind of good all these years and never let it affect you." He shakes his head, "Why did you save me?"

"I may not be your mother, but I knew your parents. I cared for your father very much."

Sylar huffs. "I know how you _care_ for people."

Angela walked toward him, coming to stand by his shoulder. "There is one thing I never lied to you about." Sylar's eyes flash up to her, narrowed with doubt. "Peter is your brother." Shock washes across the killer's face. "Your mother died when you were born. Your father was a man named Daniel Linderman."

"Peter?"

"He is my son…and Linderman's."

Sylar turns back to Peter, his eyes widen as he takes in the form of his brother. In one move he swipes the young Petrelli up, holding him with almost reverent care.

"What are you doing?" Claire asks, pulling away from the chair as the power releases her. Angela catches her shoulder.

"He won't hurt him."

Noah looks at her questioningly, but steps aside as Sylar passes him.

"I feel like I'm letting the lamb go to the slaughter," the company man says, turning to Angela, "I hope you know what you're doing."

_-_-_

Gabriel stares down at his brother. Peter is incredibly hot to the touch, and his face is drained of all color. Gabriel wonders if moving him has only made things worse. He isn't sure what compelled him to take Peter out of there. He isn't sure of anything. But there are instincts deeper than understanding, and he is starting to realize that protecting Peter is one of them. He doesn't want Peter around those horrible people one more second. Doesn't want Angela's manipulation, or Bennet's twisted morals to affect the younger man.

"Can I really do a better job?" Sylar asks the air, he watches Peter toss restlessly and notices the shaking. "You're burning hot and shivering from cold. Does that mean I leave the blankets off or put them on? Claire had you under a pile of them. Does that mean that's what you're supposed to do or just her backwards teen logic?" Gabriel sighs. He realizes now that he should have left Peter there, or should take him back now, but something in him can't. The same thing that had him rescue Peter from Pinehearst, and throw him out a window away from Arthur's murderous gaze.

He realizes that all his life people have been trying to tell him what to do. The Greys, the company, Angela and Arthur. Even Elle. He rebelled against each of them. Now however, he had no one there to tell him what to do and he felt lost.

Deciding to go with the cheerleader on this one, he drops two blankets on his brother feeling weirdly compelled to tuck them in. The shaking slowly subsides. Gabriel hovers, fidgety. He tries to remember any of the times he was sick as a child. He remembers soup and tea, but both require the partaker to be lucid. And he doesn't think being sick is really Peter's problem.

Sylar sits on the floor and leans his head against the mattress. "I tried to kill myself once," he says conversationally to his unconscious sibling. "But I never thought you would. What kind of a world is it when Peter Petrelli gives up on it?"

"I didn't give up on it."

Gabriel turns instantly to Peter. He doesn't have to know much about medicine to understand what unfocused eyes mean.

"The world can survive without me." The words are less clear this time, trailing off at the ends. Sylar opens his mouth to speak, when Peter's head lolls to the side. "Nathan…" the call is breathy and quiet, but the desperation is clear. Gabriel presses his hand against his brother's brow and feels Peter lean into the comfort of it. Gabriel's never had anyone turn to him for comfort.

Then Sylar knows exactly what he needs to


	3. Chapter 3: Fire of Unknown Origin

**Gibs: **Another chapter! ok ok I know this was supposed to be the finale chapter, but it was getting to long so I cut them in half. Look for chapter four soon! ^_^ I hope you all enjoy this, it was so fun to write! Petrelli brothers forever yeah?

Anyway, this was betaed by the lovely and charming Val (onebluegecko), many many thanks to her!

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**Chapter 3: Fire of Unknown Origin **

Nathan remembers a time when his father was his hero. No, hero is not the right term. His idol maybe? The thing he worshipped not because it was good but because he needed its approval. He searched for it, longed for it, and in the end never got it. Nathan finds himself wondering if he ever loved his father. He didn't cry when the man died. Not like Peter; Peter who had spent the better part of his life fighting with their father.

Nathan remembers times when he wanted to kill his father. Not in the over used teenage version of the phrase either, but when he _actually_ wanted his father dead. When Arthur caused Heidi's accident. He remembers Peter stepping in. _"He's your father." _Strange how the son who caused the most tension with his father could never stand to see the other members of his family fight.

Nathan remembers the moment he stopped living in his father's shadow. The day he stood before his brother in Kirby Plaza. The day Peter died.

But then Peter was back, was with him again and things weren't so clear. He'd tried to be the hero Peter saw him as. He'd tried, and then he'd just tried to be himself again. It was getting harder everyday. Husband, father, senator, vigilante. In the end the only self he knew how to be was brother, and even that he'd screwed up.

He'd been so sure the formula was the right path. So sure he could control it. So sure he could prevent the future Peter feared. Because Peter could be wrong too.

Then he'd seen them. A platoon of soldiers—good men—to protect against the Arthur Petrellis of the world. He'd been so sure that if Peter could see it then he would understand.

Then one gunshot changed everything.

Now there was fire; in his head and in the building. Pinehearst was burning down. The formula was gone and Nathan's head was screaming. He watched the building crumble and thought of Peter.

_Peter playing with the dog in the backyard._

_ Peter staring at him with wide eyes full of betrayal when he read Nathan's mind in that parking garage._

_ Peter laughing over the phone at Nathan's joke._

_ Peter looking like death when Simone died._

_ Peter babbling happily about the quarter he got from the tooth fairy._

_ Peter running at Samedi's Guerillas with only a rifle. _

_ Peter chasing Simon and Monty around the house at Christmas._

_ Peter looking hurt and shocked when Nathan hit him with a pipe._

The memories blend inside his pained mind, driving Nathan to his knees. Only one coherent thought rings through his mind. He'd hurt Peter, and he doesn't know why.

_-_-_

Gabriel looks at the paper and tosses it. Thanks to the power he picked up from the dinner waitress he doesn't have to look twice at the directions. He walks through the doors and straight up to the desk. The woman behind it is seemly with her black hair and a little too small nose.

"Hi, is the senator in?" he asks, throwing in some of that deceptive charm. She doesn't look up, just keeps typing on the computer.

"Sorry he's not here today," she replies absently. Gabriel feels a tingle run up his spine and smirks.

"Now Miss, I think we both know you're lying."

Her eyes snap up at that. Gabriel wonders why liars always look so offended when you call them on it. As if _they_ have a right to be mad. "I beg your pardon?"

"Look, just tell him his brother's here." A little lie, but a few days ago it had seemed true and it wasn't like Miss small-nose could read minds. Her eyes widen then.

"Oh you're Peter?" she says, looking ridiculously apologetic, "Mr. Petrelli came in a few hours ago. He looks terrible if you ask me." The last part she whispers conspiringly. Gabriel nods, leaning forward on the counter and gives her a wink.

"I'll take care of him." And he means it.

_-_-_

Nathan gave up pacing after the first hour. He's too tired for it. Exhausted is really a better word. The fire has dulled in his head but it's not gone. He's never felt anything like it and he can't see straight. He isn't certain how he got back to his office, isn't even sure _why_ he came. For the last two hours he's just been there, lying with his head resting on folded arms against the desk.

He hears the door open and sighs.

"Linda, I said no disturbances today."

"Not even for your brother?"

Nathan is out of the chair and against the wall before he can even register danger. He looks up and knows exactly who this is. Before him stands the enigma that until then has only been a tale from Peter and Claire.

This was Sylar.

"You're not my brother." He finds it hard to grind out, the headache only worsening after the killer throws him into the wall. Sylar shrugs casually. His manner is more unnerving than the things Nathan has heard about him.

"Maybe not, but I didn't say this visit was concerning me."

"What have you done with my brother?!" The wave of protectiveness fans the fire to new heights.

"He's not the one you should worry about." Sylar raises his finger, and Nathan feels as if a knife is being pressed against his temple. He screams. He knows this is it.

Sylar pulls back, a strange look in his eye. Nathan lands on his feet, hand instantly pressing against the bloody wound. He doesn't understand why the killer stopped, but then he doesn't understand much right now.

"I should kill you for what you did to Peter," Sylar says, "But he still needs you."

_-_-_

Peter is pulled in and out of awareness, until he feels permanently stuck. Stuck between light and dark; stuck between hot and cold. Every time consciousness begins to stir in his mind the darkness grips him again.

Until he feels it.

It's something that has been gone, but it's back and it's calling to him. He opens his eyes and glances weakly around. He's on a stripped down mattress, two knit quilts cover him. The room is plain and full of moving boxes.

He turns too quickly a feels his head swim. Everything on him hurts. He tries to let himself fall back into oblivion but whatever has been calling to him is stronger now, keeping him awake.

He shuts his eyes tight, breathing against the pain. He hears the door open, and feels a hand on his brow. It feels soft and familiar. His mind cannot connect the "who" but he registers one thing. _Safe._

"Where am I?"

"My apartment, at least it used to be my apartment. I'm not sure who's renting it now."

He opens his eyes to slits and blurry images play at his vision.

"Gabriel?" Some part of him had known that the minute the other man walked in the door, but that wasn't it. That wasn't what was calling him. "Nathan?"

He sees him then, standing a few feet from the bed. Nathan's arms are crossed, and Peter wishes his vision would stop swaying long enough for him to read his brother's expression.

And then he remembers. He doesn't have to read his brother's features. He already knows what Nathan thinks.

_Hurt, anger, tears, betrayal._

Peter pulls away from the thoughts and away from Nathan. He feels strong hands catch him, keeping him from toppling off the bed. Gabriel. The voice is beside his ear then.

"Sleep Peter."


	4. Chapter 4: I'd Come For You

**Gibberings**: Well my computer isn't fixed yet --sadface-- BUT I did get my files off it..thus the update! I'm so sorry it took so long...blame the evil computer haha But I really really wanted this to go up before Heroes tonight...so here it is. Just barely scrapping in haha Anyway enjoy!

Betaed by Maddie, who is awesome and was nice enough to correct it under such a time restraint

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**Chapter 4: I'd Come For You**

Gabriel studies the man in front of him. What he knows of Nathan is little, and pieced together from news reports on the politician and the brief words Angela spoke about him. One fact, however, is clear.

Nathan Petrelli is a walking contradiction. The man who loves his brother and betrayed him, who wants power but gave it up when he had it. Even now his face is trapped between anger and concern.

"What's wrong with him?"

"You are," Gabriel says levelly, his anger deflated in favor of his younger brother.

"What do you mean?"

Gabriel turns, looking straight into Nathan's eyes. "He tried to kill himself." The affect of his words is immediate. The older Petrelli drops to his knees on the floor beside his brother, looking horrified and pained.

"Oh Peter…" he breaths, and Gabriel watches those eyes. There is something so wrong about them. It bothers Gabriel that he can't figure it out. He's never handled the unknown well.

He focuses his power on the senator. It takes a great amount of strength to use more than one power at once. It takes even greater strength to use them without losing control.

He turns each on, like flipping switches to chase off the dark. He tunes into Nathan's heartbeat first, focusing on the irregular beats. Then he notices the inconsistent breaths. Finally he reaches out with his core power, the one he still has no name for. He looks into Nathan in that moment and sees it.

"You're broken."

_-_-_

Arthur always said that while Angela's first power was her dreams, her second was her patience. Really, she had just learned long ago that seeing things didn't mean controlling them and sometimes waiting was all you could do.

Despite the cold heart always attributed to her, Angela loves her boys. She worries, even when they don't realize it. She doesn't show it like Nathan's daughter. She believes in playing some cards to her chest, a lesson Claire seems incapable of learning.

The phone rings and the blonde is on it like a hawk, instantly swooping it up despite the fact that Angela is closer—and that it is _her_ house.

"Where is he?" Claire sounds vicious, Angela can't help but find that a bit laughable. Of all the gifted that she knows Claire is one of the least dangerous, not that the teen knows it. She seems disconcerted by what she hears but she extends the phone to her grandmother.

"Angela?" A few days ago he would have called her 'Mom'. She imagines the change is more unsettling for him.

"How's Peter?" Her voice is level, not betraying even a bit of her concern.

"Bad." Gabriel does not coddle. "But Nathan is worse." Angela shifts in her chair; this was not a development she was expecting. "There is something wrong with him."

"Did you cause it?" If he isn't playing nice, neither is she.

"No," he replies, "I just noticed it." Angela understands then.

"What do you sense?"

_-_-_

When Peter comes to this time everything is clear. He blinks at the figure of Nathan, still leaning against the bed.

"Why are you here?" He asks, not fully wanting the answer.

"I don't know," Nathan answers. Peter can hear the honesty in his voice. He's getting better at catching his oldest brother's lies. Scarlet catches Peter's attention. He notices for the first time the blood oozing slowly from a cut on his brother's temple.

"Nathan you're hurt."

"Oh you now too?" The senator replies, defensive. "You think I'm 'broken' too?" Peter furrows his brow, maybe he is more out of it than he realized.

"Your forehead…" he responds, sitting up and reaching a hand to his brother's head. The older Petrelli pulls back and lifts his own hand to feel the blood. The look on his face tells Peter he really had forgotten about it till just now. "Let me see." He touches the wound again gingerly.

It's strange how after everything he has seen Peter still finds himself surprised, but he wasn't expecting the wound to heal suddenly under his touch.

"Nathan…can you heal?"

"He can't." Peter turns to see Gabriel standing in the doorway, a phone forgotten in his hand. "I think you just did." Peter's newly discovered brother puts the phone back to his ear. "Did you hear all that?" He nods as if for the speakers benefit. "Do you think it will work?"

Nathan stands, a familiar look of frustration on his face. "Who are you talking to…on _my_ phone?" Gabriel cocks his head and, before Peter could fully register the motion, he throws Nathan across the room hard. The senator practically bounces off the wall, and crumples to the ground.

"What are you doing?!" Peter yells, adrenaline giving him the strength to stand.

"Peter…there is something wrong with your brother," Gabriel explains, a little distain escaping into his voice on the last word. Peter looks at the ground.

"Are you sure?" He's not certain if he is concerned or hopeful.

"Yeah…and Angela thinks there is something we can do about it." He thrusts the phone into Peter's hands, and the young Petrelli puts it to his ear.

"Mom? What's wrong with him?"

"There's no time for that. Just listen. You can heal now?"

"I…guess."  
"Gabriel needs to get a look inside Nathan's head, find what's wrong so you can heal it."

"Couldn't I just heal it without Gabriel taking his skull off?" The thought of Nathan's head opened by someone just barely converted from murderer is not a comfort. But if Nathan isn't himself right now…

"No, you can't heal it if you don't know what it is," she explains, as if she is talking to a child. "You have to heal him the minute Gabriel finds it, and you have to work fast because one thing you can't do is bring someone back when they are truly dead."

"Claire…"

"This is different from Claire's power. Peter…there is one more thing. Something Gabriel doesn't know." Peter meets his new brother's eyes.

"Yeah?"

"The power you have is unstable…if you aren't careful you will kill yourself trying to save him. He wouldn't do the same for you."

"I understand." Differences and pain only go so far. Peter hadn't been lying when he said he would always save Nathan.

He closes the phone and looks hard at Gabriel. "Ok I'm ready."

_-_-_

Gabriel nods and moves to the unconscious body on the floor. The blood is a sickeningly sweet smell in the air, the allure of a life in his hands wafts around him. He shudders, a smile creeping over his lips.

"Gabriel," Peter's voice pulls him up short. "Careful." Gabriel doesn't care a bit about Nathan, but he can't hurt Peter for the friggin' ability to fly. He wouldn't hurt Peter for the strongest ability in the world. He realizes how easy it would be to slip.

Peter takes Nathan's hand, gripping it firmly and nodding to Gabriel. He is ready. Gabriel aims his telekinesis at Nathan's forehead, channeling it through his finger. He never could have imagined this power would do anything but evil.

The second he starts the senator shudders awake, crying out from the pain. Gabriel can feel Peter tense beside him. He ignores the scream and tries to focus.

"Peter!" Nathan screams, anger radiating through his voice. "I always knew you would turn on me too!" Gabriel stops. Nathan shouldn't be talking like that. He shouldn't even have regained consciousness. Something Angela said comes back to the former murderer and his eyes narrow in understanding.

"Shut up…Arthur."

Nathan's dark eyes swivel to him, a glint in them that wasn't there before.

"Peter! You're gonna let him kill me? How could you! Just like you let him kill Dad!"

Gabriel looks at Peter, sees the conflict in his sibling's eyes. The pain and the guilt. Suddenly the temptation to kill the person on the floor is _very _strong.

"Peter it's not Nathan talking," he says, "Trust me." Those two words snap Peter's attention back to him.

"I do."

Gabriel feels something then that pushes everything else off. Peter trusts him. Blind, irrational trust. In _him. _The former Sylar turns to Nathan with more confidence, forcing his telekinesis out strong. Whatever control Arthur had isn't enough to keep him conscious any longer and those dark eyes shut.

As Sylar he was used to the carnage, as Gabriel he is focused. He looks at the system of Nathan's brain, and _looks _with the power in his head.

"There…There!" He shouts. He's not sure exactly how to make Peter understand what he saw. The younger brother moves up, his face several shades paler but he doesn't hesitate. He presses his hands against Nathan's face, nearly drilling them into the older Petrelli's temples. He shuts his eyes and Gabriel can literally feel the power coursing from them. He can see it. It's like a light. It's mesmerizing. He watches it, fighting back the thirst to take it.

The distraction of his inner conflict is almost enough to make him miss the change. Nathan's head begins heals cleanly and black veins are visible on Peter's pale skin.

"Peter?" he calls, reaching for his little brother. His hand lands on the younger's shoulder just as Peter collapses into his arms. The light is gone and he's afraid Peter is too. "PETER!"

* * *

**Gibberings: **Only the epilog to go now! ^_^


	5. Epilog

**Gibs: **FINALLY!! haha. The long awaited epilog. Check out the notes at the end for something interesting

Major thanks to the ever truly cool wonderful friend and beta of mine Val for prettying up my story by taking out those annoying mistakes.

* * *

**Epilog:**

Peter heard once that your life flashes before your eyes when you die. He didn't remember hearing anything about your life flashing in front of your other senses. But the smell…the clear and defined smell of waffles pulls at him. It reminds him of the future, of a little house in Costa Verde, of a little blonde haired boy named Noah.

Peter forces his eyes open and stares at the ceiling of his old room, the warm yellow paint stirring memories of his childhood. The smell of waffles is just as strong now that he is fully awake. Peter pushes himself up, cringing as his strained muscles protest. He's alone, sore, half dressed and waking up in his old room. It would all seem like a bad hangover if it wasn't for the thoughts that followed him—even down into unconsciousness.

"Nathan?" the word comes out barely above a whisper. He pulls back the covers and sets his bare feet on the hardwood floor. He stumbles, unable to find his balance, and heads out of the room. The smell of waffles pulls him downstairs. He clings to the rail, his feet threatening to trip him down the stairs.

Peter looks around. The house is so quiet.

"The least you could do was put on a shirt."

Peter starts, turning to see his mother standing at the doorway to the den. Her arms are crossed but she wears that look that tells him she was worried—even if she would never say it.

"Nathan?" he asks, because he needs to know.

"Pete…"

He turns and sees his brother. That look in his eyes is familiar at last. Nathan pulls him into a hug and Peter accepts it. This is Nathan. The _real_ Nathan. He pulls back after a moment.

"What happened?" Peter asks.

"It was Arthur," Angela explains. "His spirit attached to Nathan after he died."

"And he's gone?" Peter realizes how young he sounds, but he is tired and his head still feels barely attached, and he really can't bring himself to care.

"He's gone Pete," Nathan replies. Tangible relief washes over Peter and he sways. Nathan steadies him. "How bout some breakfast before you fall over?" Peter nods and follows Nathan into the kitchen.

The smell of waffles fills the whole room and Peter's eyes widen. It's like a flash from his trip to the future. Gabriel stands there putting waffles out onto plates.

"I told him we have people to do that, but he absolutely insisted," Angela said, sounding a bit distasteful. Peter leans against the island and grins.

"Why waffles?"

Gabriel turns and smiles also, showing so much concern with just that look. "It's all I know how to make." Peter laughs.

"You know the entire workings of the human brain but you can't cook?"

"Well, I've never got the chance to peek at Emerl's head."

Peter's face softens. "Thank you." He doesn't explain what for, but from the return look from Gabriel he knows the other understands.

"That's what brothers do Peter."

"Brothers?" Nathan's confused question comes as he walks over to join them.

"Peter there is something I need to discuss with you," Angela says, motion to the patio.

"Perfect timing Mom," Peter replies following. He shuts the double doors behind him, sensing the secrecy in her actions. "What is it?" Angela stands with her back to him, looking over the backyard—one of the few nice ones this deep in the city.

"The power you used to heal Nathan, for lack of a better word, is called the light. The catalyst," she says. "It is a unique power in that it can only be possessed by one individual at a time. Claire had it, then Hiro, then Arthur." She turns, meeting his eyes. "When he died you were there. Your gift—empathy if you will—attracted the light to you. Now it's yours." Peter nods.

"But?"

"Every time you use it, it will drain away at you. Eventually it will kill you, as it did Hiro's mother. When you die it will go to someone else."

"What are you saying?"

"Don't use it."

The door opens as Nathan comes out, his eyes between confused and angry.

"You and Linderman?" he accuses, glaring at Angela. "Syler?"

"Gabriel," Peter corrects, "His name is Gabriel." Angela pats Nathan's cheek, a "comforting" gesture that has a way of making the receiver feel very young and very stupid.

"You're ok with this?" he asks Peter as Angela disappears back through the glass double doors. Peter shrugs. Because he is. Because even with the threat of his new power and Angela's words hanging over him he is happy. In that moment his life flashes before his eyes, and he sees it now more than ever. Everything was leading here, and it's good.

He grins at Nathan. "Let's have waffles."

END!

* * *

**Gibs: **Stef called it! That's right. She noticed the trend. Every chapter title as well as the story title are song names.

Chapter 1: Because of You by Kelly Clarkson

Chapter 2: Never to Late by Three Days Grace

Chapter 3: Fire of Unknown Origin by Blue Oyster Cult

Chapter 4: I'd Come for You by Nickelback

and the story title? Open Wounds by Skillet

Wanna know why? Listen to the songs...it'll come to you :D

Thanks to everyone who read this! You are all amazing


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